re_alignment_logs | Noping right off Cybertron

Entry tags:

Noping right off Cybertron

Who: Wing, Drift and Sweary McCurseface
What: Close encounters of the NOPE kind.
Where: Vandal's House of Nope.
When: Shortly after Wing's creeper post.
Warnings: Vandallllllllll.

"Okay, we're going. We gotta go. Come on, Drift. You can't walk with your feet still all fucked up like that. You gotta get on my back, but we need to go now."

Yep. Definitely wanting to get the fuck out of dodge right now. Preferably before Wing gets there. Her only saving grace is that he can't fly right now at least, but she's not really too keen on letting her guard down. They're going to Solus temple, damn it. She was all suited up and ready to go.

And plenty nervous to boot. She really isn't sure what's wrong with Wing, but she doesn't want to find out first hand, alone.

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Wing moves when she does, slowly at first, circling to put himself between Vandal and her chosen direction. He straightens when he's certain he'll be seen anyway, taking a few more casual steps to bar her path. Silted ruby optics regard her from above, wary of her flashlight.

"Vandal. Where are you headed to so late? There are unsavory things about tonight."

"I'm sorry, but I'd rather have you safe-" Just as she says it, she finds her path blocked by the exact thing she was trying to avoid.

"Yeah... there are."

Why are his optics red like that? He's scary. Wing should not be scary. Wing should be... Wing. He's like the embodiment of light itself. This is wrong. Even in Drift's body this is wrong. Because Drift shouldn't look that scary, either.

She takes a few steps back.

"You uh... got here fast..."

He'd been prepared...at one level. Kagerou had told him, for one. And then he'd seen the video. But still. It was uncanny to be in the presence of yourself. Or rather what Drift thought was some twisted version of what Wing thought of him as. He thinks back to Luxord's card reading, the idea that Drift was too needy, too clingy, too demanding...creepy. And yeah. Here it was.

And here he was, still clinging to someone else.

He closes his eyes for a long moment.

And then moves, wriggling his way off Vandal's back. "Put me down, Vandal," he says, his voice strangely calm. "I'll handle this."

Right. He can't even handle his own body, the peaches he'd eaten suddenly turning sour and acid in his belly. But he could distract Wing, maybe. Buy her some time.

Edited 2012-09-18 13:25 (UTC)

He takes your meaning Vandal, he's no fool, but he dismisses it for now.

"I was in the area." Wing's tone and posture is dismissively casual, but it's really affected non-nonchalance that covers simmering aggression, the latter visible in the tension held in his frame. "I'd worry about Blurr honestly. He's planning something very destructive from what I understand. Should prove to be an interesting show, but I wouldn't want you in the middle of it."

He advances, trying to close the distance. "And where's Drift--" He's about to lean down and get into Vandal's space, even reach out, when he notices the form moving on her back. The source of the other voice. A human girl.

His optics narrow as he peers intensely at her. This couldn't be what Vandal had been talking about...But there was something in that tone, the set of the mouth that he'd never forget...

"No, Drift just- shhh!" But he's already squirmed his way down. Vandal does her best to block his way. He's not going anywhere fast with those bandaged feet.

She takes the moment when Wing pauses, to snatch Drift up again and make a dash back for the mobile home.

"Shit shit shit-"

As if the structure would remotely protect them...

"Karrie!" Really, this getting slung around like this was getting to be a bit much. He really hates being this small. "If it's Wing I can talk to him!"

Petals gust after them, and any other words are jounced out of Drift as he bounces on her shoulder.

He's so intent on the girl that Wing fails to anticipate Vandal's next move. She dashes away and he reaches out to grab her--too late--and his hand swipes through empty air within the bright halo cast by the trailer's porchlight.

"Vandal--!" Wing halts his lunge with a hiss, footplates digging into the ground as he twists, flinching away from light. He rights himself with a curse, taking refuge in the shadows cast by the stacks of metal siding and other build materials. Wing's eyes once again are drawn to the girl, who'd very definitely said his name.

Well that's interesting. She stops, just shy of the door, and gently puts Drift down.

Why isn't he following them?

"Sorry, Drift..." She apologizes quietly for the jostling.

Oh, there's going to be a talk after this, Vandal. He's never grabbed you and threw you around like this. He shakes himself free. He's tired of being the helpless one.

Besides. It's Wing. If Wing's in there somewhere, he won't hurt Drift.

He tries to pitch his voice to sound intimidating, dropping into an admittedly useless fighting crouch.

"Leave her alone, Wing."

Wing spares a glance for Vandal before shifting his focus back to the form of the young girl. His head tilts, optics narrowing as he considers this new development. The body and the voice Wing may not recognize, but the way she--he moves, that stance, the stony determination and noble insistence on protecting others...

"...Drift?" Who else could it be?

Edited 2012-09-19 06:38 (UTC)

Damn it...

She reaches for Drift's shoulder, but she's not sure how this will play out. Maybe Drift can convince him to leave. She's not distinctly comfortable with this, but she's beginning to wonder if maybe she should stay out of it...

They know each other so well, right? Even like this.

He hates to admit it, but, well, he's not going to lie.

"Yes." He tosses the silky hair off his face. "Why are you here, Wing? What do you want with Vandal?"

Well, this certainly puts a damper on some of his plans. Wing carefully constructs a neutral face, hiding his irritation as he shuffles his desires and expectations around, pacing the length of the shadow he's standing in as he does so. Perhaps this didn't have to be a complete waste. There was always the chance that Drift's current state was reversible and maybe Drift's current form would make for easier...handling in the meantime.

He answers, truthfully enough, though the words carry none of Wing's usual charitable concern. "I was worried for you both. Trouble is brewing in Haven tonight. But Vandal," he shoots her a look, optics narrowing. "Seems to think me unfit to protect you both."

"I was doing fine until you showed up! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She can't help it. it's a kneejerk response. She's got her hackles up, and it's really not unlike her to run her mouth.

Odd that Wing doesn't approach fully...

He had seemed fine earlier. Now he was... weird. Dangerous. Creepy. It filled her with anxiety. He was probably one of her most trusted friends, only next in line of Drift. The whole thing is scary.

Battle tactics 101: don't bunch up. Make your enemy have to choose his target. Drift moves--haltingly, on his bandaged feet--away from Vandal, away from the trailer. This way Vandal has a chance to get away if Wing comes after him. He searches for a weapon on the ground, but nothing comes to hand.

Pink petals filter down between them.

"Wing. You're scaring her." And Drift, but that's not important. "You don't want to scare her, do you?" This is Wing. He's in there, somewhere. Drift hopes.

"Were you!?" He snaps at Vandal before recovering himself. "Running off in the middle of the night hardly seems wise. And nothing's wrong Vandal, in fact it's so very right now."

Wing's red optics track Drift as the girl moves away, noticing the halting movements. Injured? He stabs an accusing look at Vandal. Before he can speak again, the petals catch the light and distract him, and for a small moment he realizes that some other him, the old him, would have been delighted by the slowly falling bits of pink: serenity manifest?

He pushes the thought away with a strong wave of his hand, the motion making petals swirl about erratically as he looks back at Drift.

"She wouldn't be so frightened if she'd just stayed put. Seems she's a touch flighty. Weak of heart?" His voice grows soft, like silt shifting into the cracks. "Too many demons haunting you Vandal? I think I'm the least of your worries."

Oh. Well that struck straight to the heart. And the looks he's giving her don't help. Even if it's not him- still. Coming from someone who sounds like Wing and looks like Drift...

She opens her mouth to protest, and finds her voice fails her. Hands drop to her side and she just. Frowns. Looks at the dirty under her feet.

"What do you want?"

"Karrie. Don't listen to him." Wing had always had a gift with words, normally to uplift and enlighten. The same gift here, but turned malignant and cutting.

He rounds on Wing, forgetting for a moment that he's a quarter Wing's size. "She's not weak. If anything, you're weak, because the both of us together barely weigh as much as your hand and you're skulking out there, afraid to make your move."

He can't hide the way his lips twitch knowing his words strike home.

"I just want what I'm due."

Wing's attention snaps back to Drift, the unexpected vehemence actually making him recoil in shock. That swiftly morphs into a growl as he bristles in outrage.

"How dare you!" He surges forward, clenched fists opening into taut fingered claws, until his foot breaks the plane of the light. He lurches back with another growl of frustration, recovering his balance but not his composure.

For all that Wing is gentle and patient, this mech is not.

Wing's optics flicker briefly to the exposed bulb of the porchlight. With a frustrated hiss through his vents he circles in the shadow, pacing angrily, his optics ranging nearby junk for an adequate missile.

She's about to tell Drift not to provoke him, but it's too late. She startles when Wing makes as though he's going to attack them... but he stops.

Why did he stop?

She narrows her eyes.

"What's the matter? Don't you want to come over here and get us?"

She casts a glance at Drift, a warning not to get too close.

"What's stopping you...?"

You can't ever entirely erase Deadlock, Vandal. At least he's turning it to protecting others.

"What? What do you think you're due, Wing?" It's half a provocation, half a question. Part of him is still trying to find Wing in there, under this.

He sways back and forth, a way to keep his center of gravity moving, ready to jump in any direction, and hopefully, hopefully, catching Wing's optic.

Wing has no answer for Vandal that won't compromise his weakness and he's too agitated to produce a believable lie. He ignores her as he paces, optics searching the junk, desperate to neutralize that light. He growls under his breath. _{"Fragging idiotic anti-firearm honor code slag..."}

His head snaps around at Drift's words. Wing's eyes narrow and he grins a feral grin. "You said you owed me... didn't you?"

Well. This is weird. Scary. Awkward. And she can't really believe that she's hiding behind a little girl, but you know.

That girl is still Drift.

She's not really ever around the, both at the same time, and even like this, with this rift, she feels like she's intruding in something. So she'll just stand there, frozen, trying to figure out why he hasn't tried to attack them yet...

Because he might be shoved in a tiny body, but he's still the mech who would give his life to protect something he cares about.

Drift is only concentrating on Wing. He notices that the other doesn't approach, but he can't figure why. His concern is buying time, getting his attention. "_{You can get inside the trailer, Vanda}," he whispers. "Safer there."

He steadies himself with a breath, one small step closer to Wing. "Yes. I owe you. Everything." His voice asks, 'what do you need?'

Wing gives up on his search, realizing line of sight would prove a problem anyway, and prowls the edge of the darkness like a thing caged. "_{...power source.....maybe a generator somewhere...}" He grumbles under his breath, optics casting about the trailer and its surroundings.

He realized if need be, he could just circle around the back and flip the whole trailer from it's dark side... Tempting, but subtly would win him less trouble later and it wasn't necessary to get extreme yet. He narrows his optics at the whispering which he can't hear over the growl of his own engine, then Drift's movement grabs his full attention.

Perhaps a different approach.

He smiles, but it's forced around his anger. He crouches, careful to stay cloaked in shadow. "Come to me." His tone demands, 'What do you need with her?'

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